


The -Worst- (Best) Christmas Wedding Ever

by a_fuck_it_kind_of_lifestyle



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Genderfluid Character, Genderfluid!Grantaire, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-29 05:08:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16257293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_fuck_it_kind_of_lifestyle/pseuds/a_fuck_it_kind_of_lifestyle
Summary: Enjolras's parents are coming to town for six weeks to help plan his sister's quickly approaching wedding, and he invents a boyfriend so his parents don't set him up with an obnoxious blast from his past. But pretending to date someone is significantly harder when you're in love with the person, and Enjolras just happens to be head over heels for his fake lover. Things are either going to fall apart or finally fall into place, and it's anyone's guess which one it will be.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Sup people, thanks for reading this, I'm really excited about this fic! It's going to have some angst (as all Enjoltaire fics do) and a little bit of Grantaire struggling with his self esteem, especially when it comes to his genderfluidity, but I'm definitely going to balance it out with plenty of fluff and fun. So thanks for reading, and let me know what you think, on here or on tumblr at capable-of-being-terrible

“Just as long as everybody knows this is a terrible idea, I’m good.” 

“Noted, Enjolras. Thank you for taking so very long to prove your point. All right, everybody, let’s go! The first round of shots are on me, and if anybody gets arrested, I’ll bring you a bouquet of flowers!” Bahorel shouted.

“Is that before or after you bail us out?” Feuilly asked with a smirk.

Bahorel gaped at him. “What do you think I am, made of money? You bail yourself out, half of you are studying to be lawyers anyway.” Feuilly laughed and shook his head fondly, but followed as everyone began to gather their things and leave the Musain.

“Will you be joining us?’ Courfeyrac asked, noticing that Cosette, Eponine, and Musichetta were wrapped up in their own conversation.

“Ah, nah, we’ve got better things to do than hang around with schmucks like you,” Eponine quipped. 

“We’re doing a girls’ night, but thanks, Courf.” Cosette explained. “Jehan, Grantaire, how are we feeling today?”

Grantaire licked his finger and held it in the air as if checking the wind direction. “Like David Hasselhoff. Thanks though.” He demonstrated his gratitude by pulling the tree girls into an enormous hug and kissing them all loudly on both cheeks. 

Eponine rolled her eyes. “What about you, flowers?” she asked Jehan.

Jehan grinned. “Like a gardenia balancing on an antique dagger. But I’ll stay with the guys, if it doesn’t offend.” The girls said their goodbyes, and the group was left alone in the Musain. 

“Okay, so which pub do we start at?” Grantaire rubbed his palms together, ready to get started. “And remember, Courf, we only get to use cop pick-up lines tonight. Bonus points if you get them to show you your badge.” 

It had been Courfeyrac and Bahorel’s plan to go on a pub crawl which specifically only included pubs frequented by cops in their off hours, as a way to celebrate everyone making it through mid-semester exams alive. Given how many times they’d been arrested when in places with no known police presence, Enjolras wasn’t far off in saying that this night was primed to be a disaster.

He just didn’t figure that it would be quite  _ this  _ disastrous. 

  
  


So far, everything was surprisingly calm. The group was rowdy and obnoxious, sure, and middle-aged male cops weren’t good sports for being constantly hit on by Courfeyrac and Grantaire, but no one had been arrested yet. Hell, Enjolras was just starting to think that everything might be okay when he got a phone call. 

“Hi, Mom.” Enjolras practically yelled into the phone as he stepped into the alleyway to take the call. The sounds of the pub and his incredibly loud friends faded, and he leaned against the cool brick of the wall to concentrate. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Yes!” His mother practically broke his eardrum with her shriek. 

“Mom, fuck, quieter please,”

“Language, young man! I’m sorry, but I’m just so excited! I couldn’t wait until morning to tell you the news! Three bits of news, actually!” 

“What news?” Enjolras had a sinking feeling in his stomach. What constituted good news in his mother’s book rarely meant the same for him. 

“Your sister is getting married!” Enjolras hissed and held the phone away from his ear as his mother continued to squeal with glee. “Isn’t it just amazing? I didn’t think Jaques was going to propose so soon, but of course, it’s very romantic isn’t it, a whirlwind romance!” 

Enjolras was going to cut in and mention that ‘whirlwind romances’ usually ended in disaster and a quick getaway, but then he remembered.

“What’s the second thing, Mom?” 

“Hm? Oh, yes! Well, you do remember Gabriel from  lycée?”

“That guy you were really creepily obsessed with? Yeah, I remember him.” God, did Enjolras ever. Gabriel had been just about the most pompous dick he’d ever had the misfortune to encounter, and he went to private school until university. 

“We were not  _ obsessed  _ with him, dear! But after you told us you were gay, well, we just want to make sure you get to have the same kind of life as everyone else. And someone like Gabriel can make sure of that.” 

Enjolras winced. His parents liked to hide their mild homophobia by insinuating that if he were to find someone to love on his own, he would end up in a dystopian nightmare where he would be forced to drink mojitos in South Beach until he was an old man, sadly watching as the mommies and daddies took their children to school. Enjolras had tried time and time again that they need not worry about Enjolras feeling unfulfilled, but the message never seemed to get through. 

“Why are you talking about Gabriel in the present tense, mother?” Enjolras asked icily, deciding to skate over her comment.

“That’s my second piece of news! He’s divorced! And we’ve already talked to him, and he is more than happy to act as your date for the wedding, as well as the rest of the week, of course.

Enjolras was sure he was having a stroke. “The rest of the week?” He choked out.

“Of course! Oh, did I forget to mention, it’s a Christmas wedding!” 

“Christmas is in six weeks.” 

His mother tutted into the phone. “Yes, I know, dear. It’s very romantic.” The second 

“Are you completely insane? I am not having  _ Gabriel  _ as my date!”

“Honey, Don’t be unreasonable.” Enjolras could practically hear his mother roll her eyes when she said it, while his own were bulging out of his eye sockets in exasperation.

“ _ I  _ am not the one being unreasonable here!” 

She sighed. “Name one reason you can’t do this.” 

Enjolras froze up. “I’m not- I can’t- I have-” … work, is what he’d been about to say. 

“Oh my goodness, you have a boyfriend, don’t you?” His mother gasped. 

Enjolras paused, thinking it over as quickly as he could, weighing the pros and cons of this lie. Anything was better than having creepy asshole Gabriel hanging all over him all week. “Yes, mhm, I have a boyfriend.”

His mother squealed again. “You should have just told me! We absolutely have to meet him; I’ll set up a dinner for Thursday.” 

Enjolras’s heart stopped. “What?”

“Oh! That’s the last piece of news! Your father and I are coming to Paris to help your sister plan the wedding -you know, since it is so soon- and we are staying until Christmas!”

Enjolras wished he could rewind about five minutes and decline this call the second his phone started ringing. Or rewind 19 years and not be born. Either one would work. “You’re going to be here for six weeks?” Even to him, his voice sounded weak and small.

“Yes.” His mother said crisply. “So tell your boyfriend. I’ll send you the details about dinner, you won’t have to worry about a thing. Oh, honey, I’ve got to go, your father wants to go to bed, and you know I just can’t refuse-”

“Ugh, mother, please!” Enjolras gagged. His mother laughed and hung up, leaving Enjolras shell-shocked and numb in the alleyway. _What the fuck did he just do?_

 


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As usual, Enjolras and Grantaire do not communicate well.

Enjolras was still leaning against the brick for support several minutes later when Grantaire stumbled out, looking slightly drunk but very grumpy. He carried a flask in his hand, and was lighting a cigarette in his other when he noticed Enjolras standing there.

“Oh, hey.”

Enjolras frowned. “Who brings a flask to a pub crawl?” 

Grantaire took a swig from his flask before answering. “People who have to deal with asshole conservative cops all night,” he answered, shaking his head. “Not exactly the best crowd to compete for pickups.” 

Enjolras immediately regretted his judgement. “I’m sorry.” He stepped forward as if to comfort him, but stopped when Grantaire looked at him wearily. “Can I have a drink?” 

Grantaire only let surprise register on his face for a moment before he handed the flask over to Enjolras. “What’s got your panties in a twist?” 

Enjolras took a drink, wincing as the whiskey burned his throat. “My parents.” Grantaire groaned, and Enjolras just nodded. “I have to ask you something. A favor. A big one.”

Grantaire looked up at Enjolras with something that was almost all the way to fear. “What could you possibly expect me to be able to accomplish for you, Apollo? Washing your dishes? Shining your boots?” 

Enjolras rolled his eyes, a slight blush crawling up his cheeks in spite of himself at the innuendo. He hoped it was too dark in the alley for Grantaire to notice. “My parents wanted to set me up with a dick from my school back home for my sister’s wedding, which is apparently a rushed affair on all accounts. She met him three months ago and they’re getting married on Christmas. And they wanted me to not only go to the wedding with this asshole, but also spend the whole fucking week of Christmas with him.” 

Grantaire raised his eyebrows. Usually Enjolras kept his profanity to a classy minimum. “Surely this guy’s not that bad? It wouldn’t kill you to have a love life, you know.” 

Enjolras scowled. “You don’t know Gabriel. He’s an arrogant, rude creep. When we were in school together, he’d mock me for my beliefs in class, then tell me how great of an ass I had the second we were out the door. And my parents only want me to date him because they think because he’s a rich asshole who just wants a piece of meat on his arm, he’s the closest I could get to their heterosexual picket-fence nightmare.”

Grantaire whistled lowly, trying not to think about how much of Gabriel’s description could apply to himself. He really hoped his name didn’t garner that much hate in Enjolras’s mind. “Sounds like a real shithead. So what are you going to do?”

Enjolras winced. “That’s the favor I have to ask. But I’m afraid it’s much bigger than that one week. I, um, may have told themI have a boyfriend to get out of the Gabriel situation, at which point they told me that they were coming to Paris for the next  _ six weeks.”  _

Grantaire gaped. “What the fuck? You really are an idiot, aren’t you? What are you going to do?” He was laughing at him. Grantaire was  _ laughing at him.  _ Enjolras wanted to be righteously angry, but two things were making that very hard. One was that Enjolras was pretty sure he  _ was  _ an idiot, and the second was that watching Grantaire laugh was very distracting. He threw back his whole head when he laughed, making his dark curls go in every which direction and exposing the skin of his neck. Enjolras had spent far too much time fantasizing about sucking hickeys all over that neck, and looking at it so up close was making his whole face heat up. 

“I need you to pretend to date me!” He blurted out, desperate to stop Grantaire’s laughter and to get the whole situation over with. Time to end his imminent suffering and start some real long-term torture.

Grantaire did indeed stop laughing. He shut his mouth immediately, looking at Enjolras with an expression that seemed to be looking for the punchline. “Um,  _ what?”  _

Enjolras twisted his hands behind his back. “I need someone to pretend to date me for the next six weeks and I need you to do it.” 

Grantaire’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “Isn’t there anyone else you can ask?” 

Enjorlas shook his head. “My mother’s insisting that my partner come to the wedding too, and almost everyone is going home for the holidays. I couldn’t ask them to miss one of the only times they see their families, just because I made a dumb mistake. You’re the only one who’s not going home.”

“Feuilly’s an orphan.”

“And he can’t take off work for the holidays, you know that. He needs the extra cash.” Grantaire nodded his head. He snuffed out his cigarette, not looking at Enjolras. 

“What about Combeferre or Courfeyrac?” 

“They grew up in my town; if one of them pretended to be my boyfriend, they’d have to pretend to be my ex-boyfriend for the rest of our lives.” Enjolras sighed. “Look, I know this is a lot to ask, believe me, but I’m kind of in a bind.” 

Grantaire pursed his lips. He stayed quiet for a long moment, looking at his boots rather than Enjolras. When he spoke, his voice was so quiet that Enjolras had to step closer to hear. “But you’re gay.” 

That was not at all the response that Enjolras had been expecting, and he was really missing the point. “...yes?” 

Grantaire sighed. “And I’m not always a boy.” 

_ Oh.  _ “Oh.” Enjolras stood without moving a for a second, not quite sure how to say what he had to say without completely humiliating himself.

Grantaire let out a bitter half-laugh that hurt Enjolras’s heart. “Yeah. so, sorry, but I can’t be what you want me to be.” He took another swig of his flask, then spun around to head back into the bar. Enjolras grabbed his arm desperately.

“Grantaire, wait.” Grantaire looked down at Enjolras’s hand on his arm with venom in his eyes. Enjolras let go. “I’m sorry. I… I am attracted to men, but I don’t think I’m so attached to my ‘gay’ label as to let someone extraordinary get away just because they aren’t always a man.” A terribly awkward silence ensued as Enjolras realized what he’d just said and the stricken look on Grantaire’s face. “I mean,” he panicked, “Hypothetically, of course. Not that I-” 

Grantaire nodded curtly. “Yeah, I get it, you don’t have to say it.” His lips were pressed into a tight line and he seemed like he was leaning away from Enjolras. “Fine, I’ll do it. Now can I go the fuck inside?” 

Enjolras’s heart broke a little at the angry expression on Grantaire’s face. Without thinking, he reached out his hand and squeezed Grantaire’s. Grantaire’s whole body tensed at his touch, but when Grantaire looked into Enjolras’s eyes, he relaxed. “Thank you.” Enjolras whispered. 

“I should really get back inside.” Grantaire muttered. He avoided looking at Enjolras again, wiggling out of his grasp and slipping the flask back into his coat pocket as he re-entered the pub. 

“I’m in trouble.” Enjolras whispered to himself. He looked up at the stars and wondered if he was completely insane. Six weeks of pretending to be in love with Grantaire? Easiest, albeit most painful, thing he could ever do. Convincing himself it was all just pretend? Nearly impossible.


End file.
